


Christmas Surprise

by Ghelik



Series: The 100 Fics [38]
Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Christmas, F/F, F/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-10
Updated: 2017-12-10
Packaged: 2019-02-13 00:00:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,801
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12971271
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ghelik/pseuds/Ghelik
Summary: Bellamy always wished to have a big family. Now he does. It's not how he had imagined.





	Christmas Surprise

**Author's Note:**

> I have absolutely no clue what I am talking about here. Hope nobody in functional poli relationships takes offense.

Bellamy can’t stop bouncing his leg. Just one more hour and he’ll be back with his girls. This was his last tour, and he can’t wait to settle, staying all year in their new house, watching their daughter grow, maybe add a little brother at some point.

 

The woman beside him looks pointedly at his bouncing leg, and he makes an effort of stopping it, sitting still, trying to relax, maybe concentrate on the movie playing in front of him.

 

“Home for Christmas?” she asks. There’s something vaguely familiar about her, but he can’t place her, and he cannot concentrate enough to care. If she knows him, she might as well say so herself.

 

“Yes.” It’s the first Christmas he will be spending with them all. “I can’t wait,” he adds because he can’t help himself. She smiles. “You?”

 

“Oh, I’m surprising my daughter and my nephew.”

 

“Has it been long since you’ve seen them?” Bellamy asks. He enjoys talking to strangers, listening to them speak about their lives and whatnot. The woman’s smile turns soft and a little bit sad. “Yes. My daughter drops by once a year. But I haven’t seen my nephew for at least seven years.”

 

Bellamy swallows, scrambles for something to say. He wants to ask why, but settles for an “I’m sorry to hear that.”

 

The woman tsks softly. “It’s my own fault, really. But that’s why I am here. To make amends. And to meet his little girl.”

 

“How old is she?”

 

“Four, I think? I haven’t even met his wife.”

 

Bellamy squirms at the concealed anger in her voice. She seems to catch herself and clears her throat, raises a hand to play with the ring hanging from a slim chain around her throat. “I’m sorry about that. What about you? Big plans for Christmas?”

 

“Nothing fancy. Dinner with my wife’s cousin. It’s the first time we will be all together for the holidays. Even my sister will be coming over.”

 

The woman nods. “You have a big family?”

 

Bellamy makes a noncommittal sound. He has learned to skirt around that particular subject. Yes, he does have a big family now. For someone who had just his sister for the longest time – and then a few years when he didn’t even have that much – his actual family seems enormous. But that always raises a lot of unwanted questions, and a lot of judge-y looks. He doesn’t feel like dealing with those right now.

 

“You have children?” asks the woman.

 

“Yes. A little girl, Madi.”

 

“As in Madeleine.”

 

“My wife chose it.”

 

The woman laughs. “What a coincidence!” But the rest of the sentence is swallowed by the cheers that erupt around them, and Bellamy blinks out of the window. He has missed the landing. The plane maneuvers for a few minutes and stops at the finger. Bellamy cannot concentrate on the woman any longer. He manages a some-what polite “I hope you have a wonderful Christmas” before he’s exiting the plane as fast as humanly possible.

 

The twenty minutes it takes for his knapsack to arrive are the longest of his life. He sees the woman on his hurried way to the doors. She’s still standing at the belt, a bearded man standing beside her. They wave at him, and he manages a smile and a wave.

 

Bellamy bolts out the doors, scanning the crowd for the familiar faces. “Daddy!” shrieks a high-pitched voice and then his small bundle of joy throws her arms around his legs. The bag falls at his feet as he raises her to him and crushes her against his chest. A second later Clarke launches herself against him with such force he nearly falls back. His beautiful wife pulls him down for a messy kiss.

 

“Hey!” calls Raven, limping finally to where they are. Clarke lets him up for air, just long enough for him to turn to his other partner and kiss her as well. She hugs him fiercely.

 

Surrounded by the loves of his life, he feels complete and – finally at home.

 

***

 

Murphy’s house is small but cozy. It seems over-full with everyone there: his sister Octavia, her huge dog Helios, Clarke, Raven, Madi, Murphy’s wife Emori and their daughter Ivy.

 

They have set the table in their not all-that-big living room, pushing the couch out of the way to make room for it. The tree is not incredibly big, and other than the garlands over every door; there aren’t many decorations. But the food looks delicious – for all his faults, Murphy is an excellent cook – and carols play softly in the background.

 

Madi and Ivy, are playing with Helios while the rest try not to be in the way. Chatting and laughing and Bellamy has to brush the tears from his eyes surreptitiously. “You ok, man?”

 

Murphy and Bellamy are not exactly friends – nobody is exactly friends with Murphy- but he likes the young man well enough. And it was Murphy who introduced him to Clarke. Bellamy will always be grateful for that. For making this possible. “Yeah.”

 

The younger man steps a little closer to watch. The four women are sipping their Champaign –beer in Octavia’s case – and laughing. “I get it, you know.” He whispers. “I never thought I’d ever been so happy.” Murphy squirms on his feet. “Sometimes it feels like a dream, and I’ll wake up, and everything will be gone.”

 

Bellamy’s head snaps to him. He has this ability to appear a lot smaller than he is. Now he looks like a boy, slightly terrified, incredibly in awe of what he’s seeing.

 

Clarke has told him what happened to Murphy, about his parents and the circumstances that brought him to live with her when he was ten. She has even told him – what little she knows – about why he got into the military.

 

Bellamy puts his arm around his shoulders and feels him sag a little. “I know the feeling.”

 

Murphy looks up at him with his too-big eyes. It’s a look Bellamy used to get from his sister when she was younger and let herself be vulnerable around him. “Thanks.” He clears his throat, grows back to his usual size, squaring his shoulders and holding his head high. “Who’s hungry!”

 

Raven ushers the girls to the bathroom to wash their hands while Emori directs them to their seats.

 

The doorbell rings and they all exchange confused looks. Everyone is here.

 

“You sit,” sighs Murphy. “I’ll see who it is.”

 

Bellamy is in the process of setting Madi in her high chair when a very pale and unhappy Murphy comes back in with clearly fake cheer he says: “Hey family. Look who is here!”

 

It takes Bellamy a moment to recognize the pair standing behind Murphy, but when he does it hits him like a train: it’s the woman from the plane. The woman who came to surprise his nephew, whose daughter lived here. It finally clicks, why she looked familiar. It’s Abby Griffin, Clarke’s mother, the bearded man beside her, her new husband, Marcus Kane.

 

Clarke stands ramrod straight, her eyes huge and face a little pale. “Mom!”

 

“I hope I’m not intruding,” she says very politely, very calmly. She’s dressed in a beautiful pantsuit and silk blouse, so poised and elegant; she makes everyone else in the room – save for her husband – look _less._ “But since neither of you deigned themselves to come home for Christmas, I thought I would come see you.”

 

Clarke squirms, guilt, and nerves plain on her face. Her relationship with her mother is not a good one, hasn’t been good since her dad died when she was eighteen, and only deteriorated after she abandoned med school and married Raven in Vegas. Bellamy knows all this, as well as the fact that Clarke never got around to tell her mother about their _arrangement_.

 

Emori, always the quick thinker, walks around the table, her bad hand held behind her back and a warm – if forced- smile on her lips. “Mrs. Griffin, welcome to our home” she offers her good hand to the woman, who takes it gingerly. Her expression like she’s just bitten into a sour lemon. “My name is Emori.”

 

“She’s my partner,” growls Murphy like he expects a fight.

 

“Pleasure.” Abby Griffin says.

 

“Are you staying for dinner?” Emori asks cordially. “We can squeeze you in, no problem.”

 

“That would be a pleasure.” Abby looks at Clarke. “Aren’t you going to introduce me to your friends, honey?”

 

Clarke seems to shake herself. “Mom, you already know Raven and Madi.” From Bellamy’s arms, the girl waves at her grandmother. “That is Octavia, and he is Bellamy, our husband.” She adds after a beat.

 

Abby Griffin’s spine stiffens, her eyes become stormy and dangerous. “Clarke, Murphy, can I speak to you two in private for a moment?”

 

The two women follow Murphy to one of the bedrooms upstairs, leaving the rest standing awkwardly there. Emori, somehow being the least socially incompetent of the group offers a seat to Abby’s husband. “Can I get you something to drink?”

 

The stranger scans the table. “Just some wine, if you don’t mind.”

 

“Of course.”

 

***

 

Clarke decides that the conversation could be going a lot better. Not that her mother’s reaction actually surprises her, there is a reason why she hadn’t told her about Bellamy.

 

Abby Griffin is a traditional, God-fearing woman. Not one of those religious radicals, Clarke sometimes hears about on the news, but still, she likes things to remain as they always were. Her best friend, Thelonious Jaha, is the parish’s priest, and, even though she doesn’t regularly go to church, she still thinks there are things that will anger God. Like women liking other women, or “living in sin.” Coming out as a bisexual was difficult enough, and Clarke only found enough courage to do it, thanks to her dad. But then her dad died, and Clarke made a number of bad decisions that kept driving her farther and farther away from Abby.

 

Clarke was never able to kid herself. She knows that marrying Raven had been a rebellious act of defiance after a pretty bad argument with her mother. She knows that, if Murphy hadn’t introduced them to Bellamy shortly after the “honeymoon phase,” they probably wouldn’t have lasted much longer. But the three of them work like a well-oiled machine. It’s not that Clarke and Raven don’t work, or that they don’t love each other, Clarke loves both her partners desperately. But there was always something missing when it was just the two of them.

 

“Well? Don’t you have anything to say?”

 

“What do you want me to say?” sighs Clarke. All the happiness she had felt being surrounded by her family, slipping from between her fingers, leaving her empty.

 

“I don’t understand what the big deal is?” grumbles Murphy, straightening from where he was slumped against the wall. “They’re hurting no one.”

 

“When I want your opinion, John, I will ask for it,” snaps Abby.

 

“Can I leave?” he asks, somewhat hopeful. Clarke cannot say she blames him.

 

“I am not done with you.”

 

“What exactly did _he_ do wrong here?

 

Abby clicks her tongue in a sound that always got on her nerves. “Don’t try to distract me, young lady, I am not going to…”

 

“Is this because Em is Asian?” Murphy asks his voice ice-cold.

 

“No. What do you take me for?”

 

“A classist and a racist.”

 

Abby takes a step towards him, and Murphy backs away back against the wall, seeming to shrink half a foot in the process. Abby stops, her eyes wide. It takes her a moment to reign her anger in. “It has nothing to do with her race. It has everything to do with the fact that you lied to me.”

 

“Did I though? I remember telling you I was living with someone. Also, I remember telling you I had a daughter.”

 

“You failed to mention the big tattoo across her face.”

 

“I think it looks beautiful.”

 

“Have you thought about how that could affect your future?” there is a beat. “Of course not, because you never think before you act.”

 

“That’s not fair…”

 

“Shut up, Clarke!”

 

“I don’t care about her tattoo.”

 

“Well, you should. Think about it.” She tries to sound reasonable. “How many respectable people do you know with big bold tattoos over their faces? What will you do when you want to find a real job?”

 

“I have a real job” mumbles Murphy, shrinking a little bit more.

 

“What will happen when your colleagues or your bosses see her?” Abby continues like she hasn’t heard him. “At some point, you will want a normal life. John,…”

 

“Don’t call me that.” Mumbles Murphy, looking at her through his long lashes.

 

“… you will end up regretting shackling yourself to a woman without future.”

 

“Emori has her own tattoo parlor.” Murphy isn’t looking at her. “She has had her own business for seven years now. My friends like her. My co-workers adore her. My _family_ loves her. I don’t need your approval.” He frowns. “And if this is because I am not _married”_ he spits the word like it’s poisonous. His big blue eyes snap up to Abby. “Because this is also about what _Jaha_ will think, isn’t it? About the fact that I’m ‘living in sin’? Well… you know what? I’d rather end up in hell for all eternity than have to spend a single second longer in church.” He sets his jaw. “You can get your head out of your ass or get out of my house. Finish what you need to talk about with Clarke and you can either join us downstairs, or you can show yourself out.”

 

He turns towards the door.

 

“John, I’m not….”

 

He turns around; he looks a little bit like Clarke’s dad at that moment, shoulders squared, blue eyes blazing. “You don’t call me that. You haven’t earned the right.”

 

“John Alexander Murphy, come back this instant!”

 

Murphy closes the door softly behind him, leaving a seething Abby and Clarke alone. The older woman turns her whole fury towards Clarke. For a moment she feels like a little girl who has broken her mom’s favorite vase. Then something snaps inside her.

 

Murphy was never one to stand up for himself. He would use dry humor and sarcasm to hide the fact that he was hurt, that something bothered him. It took Clarke a long time to see behind the façade. She isn’t sure she has ever seen him so sure of himself, so boldly defending someone he loves. It’s inspiring.

 

“You know what, mom?” Clarke’s voice trembles just a little. “He is right. I don’t care what you have to say about the matter. We are hurting no one. We are happy, and we love each other. I can accept crap from strangers; I can bare the looks and the mumblings. But if you will not accept it… Well, nobody has invited you. The decision is yours.”

 

“I am only trying to protect you.”

 

“I don’t need protecting. This is my life.”

 

Abby’s jaw ticks. “I’ll let you think about it.”

 

She walks out of the room leaving the door open behind her. Her knees buckle when she walks down the stairs. Marcus Kane is sitting at the dinner table, animatedly talking with Octavia and Raven. Emori and Murphy have retreated to the kitchen and Bellamy is feeding Ivy and Madi. He looks up at her, being the first one to notice her standing there.

 

Clarke collapses in the chair between her two partners. Raven puts her arms around her shoulders. Bellamy squeezes her knee.

 

There’s a moment of tense silence, then Marcus clears his throat and asks them if the children are already in school. “They started in September” answers Murphy way more defiantly than the question really warranted.

 

“Are they in the same school?”

 

“Yes.”

 

“Do you have kids, Marcus?” asks Emori, emerging from the kitchen, her bad hand swatted in a woolen mitten.

 

He gives them a half smile. “I am afraid I wouldn’t be a good parent. Would spoil them rotten. Have been trying to refrain from sneaking lollypops to these two for the last twenty minutes.”

 

Someone snorts and, just like that, the tension seems to melt away. The hosts sit down. Abby’s empty chair glares back at them for the next few minutes, but somehow the conversation manages to flow normally until someone knocks on the doorframe to the living room.

 

Silence falls over the dinner table. “Is there still room for one more?”

 

Clarke and Murphy exchange a look. Raven squeezes her hand; Bellamy, her knee. Emori steps on Murphy’s foot. Marcus arches an eyebrow at Abby.

 

“Yes,” answer Murphy and Clarke at the same time.

 

Abby sits down.

 

**Author's Note:**

> This thing was unbetad. 
> 
> Thank you so much for reading and commenting.


End file.
